


The Soldier's Myriad

by Chef_Rowl



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cyberpunk, F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi, Near Future, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-02-15 16:59:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18673780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chef_Rowl/pseuds/Chef_Rowl
Summary: The Earth is slowly recovering from the devastating Atlantean War, but a new threat to the fragile world peace arises. A small group of skilled individuals is assembled and prepared to hold the line.





	1. Prologue

“Why are we out here again?” Jose asked for the millionth time, staring out to sea off the starboard bow.

“Shut up, you know why.”

The answer brought no comfort. They had been at sea for weeks, scouring the southern Atlantic for oil deposits under the ocean floor. So far, only one small score that wouldn’t even cover the ship’s maintenance costs for this job. So they pressed on, zig-zagging South at a snail’s pace, stopping every few hours to send down a prospector drone.

“We’re already below Africa’s tip and we still haven’t found anything. Let’s just cut our losses and go home. Margarita Island is lovely this time of year.”

The crew just ignored him. This wasn’t Jose’s first whine session, and it wouldn’t be his last. Still, most of them found it increasingly difficult to disagree.

The ship’s intercom crackled to life and the captain’s voice ordered all hands to brace for impact. Nobody moved, confused at the sudden, random order in the middle of nowhere. The ship lurched as the engines reversed thrust, provoking the crew to scramble for safety.

The ship abruptly stopped dead as the deafening shriek of rending steel filled the air. Sailors and equipment tumbled forward, and Jose was thrown over the bow railing. He fell some ten feet and landed on his side, but didn’t sink. He lay there for a moment, winded, then slowly rose to his feet. The ship’s prow was badly dented, but thankfully the hull wasn’t breached. That wasn’t what concerned Jose, however.

He was standing in, or rather  _ on _ what had been a featureless stretch of ocean until a few seconds ago. Then again, there still wasn’t any feature to speak of. Jose was standing on a perfectly flat floor made of some kind of metal he didn’t recognize. Not steel at any rate. It rose some yards out of the water, and stretched out before him so far he couldn’t make out any edge besides the one his ship had hit.

A voice called out from above, a crewmate who had seen him go overboard. Jose called back and waved when a very, very surprised face peaked over the bow.

* * *

Since the ship was in no immediate danger, most of the crew disembarked to see what they had hit. None really saw more than Jose had, though. A flat metal surface colored like ash-stained copper, criss-crossed with seams--none big enough to squeeze a finger into--in the middle of nowhere. The surface only rose a handful of meters above the water; someone suggested it might have been brought to the surface when the induced re-freezing of the ice caps in 2039 lowered the sea levels. Made no less sense than a metal island. 

The crew scrambled back aboard after an hour or so. The captain had sent out a radio call reporting what they knew, but he wanted to try to learn more. Both prospector drones were sent overboard after the ship had pulled away. The drones went down and in opposite directions along the artificial shoreline. Underwater, the metal structure sloped gently down from the surface. The cabin crew crowded the monitors to see whatever the drones discovered.

What they discovered, one shortly before the other, was corners. They each turned to follow, and an hour later the crew realized the metal island they hit was the flattened peak of a massive pyramid. The edges of the square peak were several kilometers long each. One drone was sent down along a slope to try to find the bottom. The pyramid went all the way down to the ocean floor, and further if the seismic readings from the drone were to be believed.

Nobody could even begin to guess what they had stumbled upon. But despite the intrigue of the structure, it wasn’t earning them money. The captain wrote up and sent home a full report as the drilling ship slowly pulled away.

* * *

A week later, an aircraft approached the metal island. It hovered for a minute before gently landing on the roof of the pyramid. Three figures in cargo pants filed out, eventually followed by the pilot who was also wearing cargo pants. They spread out, prodding the floor with various complicated-looking tools. One got down on their belly and pressed an ear to the metal as they tapped it with a small hammer. They all looked and sounded excited despite the apparent lack of happenings.

After a few hours, one of the figures began shouting and waving to the others. They all gathered and there was a moment of hushed anticipation. The first figure pointed at a square outlined by seams that seemed more worn than the floor around it; they stamped on it, there was a slight tremor, then a wedge rose from the floor. It was about three meters wide and over ten long; once it had stopped moving it was as tall on the face as it was high.

But more important than its size, there was a door. A round, heavy, thick door set into the square face that wouldn’t look out of place in a nuclear shelter. The four figures stared, breathless.

Then the door opened.


	2. Alexander Kozak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kozak, a veteran of the Atlantean War, is approached by a CIA agent with an offer he literally can't refuse.

Alexander jerked awake, bolt upright in bed and waited for the nightmare-induced panic to subside. He took his hands away from his face and looked down on his legs with a heavy sigh. What was left of his legs, at least. Both legs had been crushed in the war; no surgery could repair them. Instead, they had been replaced with robotic prosthetics. They are just as good- -better, in fact--than the legs he was born with, but it felt like a piece of himself was missing. He could still feel his legs in the space between dreaming and waking.

There was still about an hour before his morning alarm would go off, but he rolled out of bed anyway and headed for the kitchen. Over a breakfast of eggs and toast he scanned the recruitment forum. Something easy today, he thought to himself. Just an intimidation or repo or something. He just wasn’t feeling up to anything too demanding.

There was a sorority looking for a bodyguard escort for their party later tonight. Sounds good. Drunk rich kids tend to pay well, and all he’ll have to do is stand near them looking scary. Not a problem for the Gross Soldier, he dryly reflected.

His alarm went off and he jumped, having forgotten about it. As he stumbled over to switch it off there came a knock at the door. It was probably old Ms. Robbins from the apartment across the hall, asking to borrow his blender again.

It wasn’t. When Alex opened the door there was a man in a black suit standing there. Wearing sunglasses indoors. CIA spooks always gave themselves away from the get-go. He spoke, and his voice was as unremarkable as his appearance. “Alexander Kozak.”

Alex sighed and stepped back so the spook could enter. The stranger closed and locked the door behind him. Both men sat at the little table in the kitchenette.

“So what can I do for you, Mr...?”

“Agent Lynch. I’m here to recruit you.”

“Well, Agent Lynch, I do have a page on the local recruitment forum. You could post a request and-”

“No. This matters. It is far more important than guard duty for a bunch of drunk college girls.”

_ How did he...? _ “Really? Well, there are procedures to freelance recruitment, Agent. You can’t just show up at my door and demand I do... something.” Alex stood as if to show the agent to the door. “Feel free to send me a request through the forum, and I’ll respond when I’m able.”

Agent Lynch didn’t budge from his seat at the table. Instead, he slowly pulled a bundle of papers from his briefcase and laid them out. Maps, satellite images, long lists of numbers that meant... something important, probably.  “Do you remember Atlantis, sergeant Jackson?”

Alex’s blood turned cold. “That’s not who I am anymore.”

The agent snorted. “But you do remember?”

“Of course. I lost my legs there. And my squad. I see it in my nightmares. I’m done, Agent. I was injured. I was honorably discharged. There’s nothing left.”

“And the NSU remembers as well. They came out of the war bruised and broken.”

“We all did.”

“Yes, but they didn’t obtain nearly as much Atlantean technology as one would expect when looking at their casualty reports. They are struggling to keep their economies afloat. It’s not enough. They’re failing, their countries are dying.”

“So what? You want me to start a fundraiser? Sell chocolate bars door to door? Sexy car wash?”

Agent Lynch was all business as he pointed to his maps on the table. “Last month in total radio silence, New Soviet Union armies marched into what’s left of Scandinavia and subdued the entire region. The REU either didn’t learn of what was happening, or doesn’t care. The natural resources the NSU won will help, but not enough. They’re still moving forces west towards European borders. They will march again.”

“Cool story, but I don’t know what you expect me to do about it. Sounds like a job for the REU. They’re a competent bunch, just tell them what you told me, maybe offer to provide air support. Job done.” He made no attempt to hide his contempt with the agent, with the situation, with the idea of more fighting, with the prospect of not escorting a bunch of drunk college girls for a night on the town. He slapped his artificial legs for emphasis. “I’ve done my part, agent. I’ve already given enough.”

“We cannot tell them. The world at large is still unaware of our reestablished satellites, and revealing such a secret could tip mistrust into overt hostility. The world will not survive another Atlantean War, sergeant. If more fighting on that scale breaks out, humanity will be in danger of extinction.” The agent’s tone broked no room for argument.

Alex didn’t balk. “You’re a melodramatic bastard, aren’t you?”

But he didn’t disagree. Billions of people had died within the decade of fighting over the technology in Atlantis, and the population wasn’t recovering as quickly as it should be. If the New Soviet Union and Renewed European Union started fighting again, the NSU would win, likely exterminating the remains of the REU in the process. The potential was also there to spread and weaken the NSU’s population to the point it would simply dwindle away. What the agent said about secret satellites also rang true. Alex had read his history, he knew about the Red Scare of the mid 20th century. Distrust and fear were powerful motivators when it came to international conflict.

He turned everything over in his head for a minute as the agent waited for an answer. His eyes wandered as he thought, over the walls of his apartment, over the floor, over the maps on the table...

He paused. Something caught his eye.

“Hey agent, what’s that?” he asked, leaning forward to place his finger on a satellite image of what used to be western Poland. A gray shape stood out from the foliage and greenery.

Lynch also leaned in to look. He didn’t answer, but it was clearly a defensive line of fortifications. 

“That’s a Maginot Line. An Atlantis-enhanced second Maginot line... The NSU force will be slaughtered the minute they get close. And over here,” Alex shifted his finger to another photo, “is a cluster of barrack tents. Enough to house thousands of soldiers. The REU has this under control. They see what’s going on, they’re fine.”

“Well, maybe, but-”

“No. Shut up. You need to go back to your office and fire some analysts or something. There’s no need to risk an international incident over this... this hunch. Get out of my home.” He pointed at the door, clearly working hard to restrain himself from bodily throwing the agent out.

Agent Lynch didn’t even bother responding. He saw himself out, leaving all his papers behind.

Alex grumbled to the lonely apartment. He grabbed the air freshener and wandered around, cleansing his home of the agent’s taint. Satisfied, he went for a shower, sending a reply to the sorority from his shower computer panel. His mind wandered as he stood under the warm water.

* * *

 

_ The Lost City of Atlantis. It was supposed to be paradise, something out of legend. For a while, it was. But now... _

_ Anti-aircraft fire boomed outside the dropship and Sergeant Jackson gripped his harness a little tighter, silently cursing himself for signing up for hot drops. _

_ A red light lit up the troop compartment of the aircraft and the paratroopers rose to their feet, wobbling as the dropship bucked beneath their feet. Four lines of six soldiers, about to jump out of a perfectly good aircraft. Nothing to it. _

_ The door at the rear of the compartment opened and daylight flooded in. Several thousand feet below them sat the ancient city of Atlantis. It looks surprisingly unremarkable from up here, little more than a featureless brown square poking out of the South Atlantic, but these troops were about to get a much closer look. _

_ The red light turned green; as one, the 24 airborne troops plunged out the door into the open air. Well, there were only 23 soldiers. The 24th person was a civilian, a scientist specializing in... old stuff. The 23 troops were tasked with escorting her to a chamber that had been discovered by deep scans mere hours ago. They were to get there, analyze and, if possible, recover whatever wondrous Atlantean technology lied within before the Soviet troops, who were even now trying to shoot them out of the sky. _

_ At three hundred feet, Jackson’s airborne squad ignited their jetpacks, quickly slowing to a speed that wouldn’t reduce them to a smear on the Atlantean roof when they landed. They hit the deck hard, and raced for the nearest hatch leading into the Lost City, ducking NSU laser fire from a nearby mobile gun emplacement. Jenkins at the rear took a round in the leg and burned his jetpack to leap across the last twenty yards to the hatch. Gonzales slammed it shut as soon as he made it inside. _

_ Jenkins was groaning in pain, but not out of the fight. He slapped a medi-patch on the burn wound and a brave face on the situation. The squad caught their breath as Jackson barked orders. _

_ “Jenkins, Gonzales: hold the door. We’ll need an exit. Don’t follow, we’ll set mines as we go. Dead Man’s Signal.” _

_ “Copy,” the door guards replied in unison. Both sounded unhappy to be on guard duty, but Jenkins wouldn’t be able to keep up, and... well, Gonzales was already by the door controls. The DMS order wasn’t encouraging, either. It was a simple system used to counter short-range communication jamming: they’d leave their squad comm channels open, feeding constant white noise to a squadmate moving with Jackson’s group, and if the DMS stopped, they knew the NSU troops were through the door guard. Yeah, it’d give the rest of their team a much-needed heads up, but it was chilling to receive the order. Nine times out of ten, it was a death sentence, hence the name. _

_ “The rest, split into fireteams. Three in front of the egghead, two behind. Rear fireteams lay mines at your discretion. Good?” _

_ The troops nodded. The scientist sounded miffed to be referred to as “egghead,” but now wasn’t the time for niceties. The squadron formed up and jogged down into Atlantis. Gonzales helped Jenkins into a better position, laid mines in front of the door, and prepared for the Soviet assault. _

* * *

 

A beep from the computer panel shook Alex out of his reverie. It was a thank you message and the advance fee from the sorority. He stepped out of the shower and toweled off before confirming the money transfer. He tried to put the idea of another global war aside as he got ready for a night clubbing with a bunch of girls.

* * *

 

Well, not what he was expecting. 

The group he ended up meeting with was a classical literature sorority. He didn’t remember anything like that when he was in university, but nevermind. More importantly, this wasn’t the rager that most sororities go on at the end of the Summer. Rather, it was a trip to the theater. Not the holo theater, either. It was Hamlet, the play. Actors and a stage and everything. The holographic effects enhanced the experience beyond any other play Alex had seen, though. It was quite the performance.

But still.

Alex stifled a yawn as he stood by the door leading up and out of the auditorium. He kept watch over his charges, sitting only a few rows back from the stage. It was a full house, and the crowd hung off every word as the lead actor poured his heart into the role.

Alex didn’t care. He had hyped himself up for a bit of an... involved escorting job. He was bored. And hungry.

At last, the final scene began. The stabbing and poisoning and such were very well executed and the ending soliloquy was delivered to rapturous applause. As the audience began filing out, Alex’s sorority gathered around him to take a head count. All 30 of the girls accounted for, they headed out to their rental bus. Alex stayed at the back, head on a swivel, making sure the girls were all safe. He didn’t have any personal investment in this group besides his fee, but he took his job very seriously. Perhaps too seriously to an outside observer. 

On the bus headed back to the university campus, the group talked about what to do next since it was still early in the evening. The girls seemed to settle on some activity, and one of them leaned up to Alex sitting alone at the front of the bus.

“Hey, how long do we have you for?” She asked.

He turned in his seat. “The contract just said ‘for the night’ so I’m here until the sun rises.”

The girl broke into a wide grin. “Awesome! We have some fun planned! You should stick around!”

He smiled and nodded back. She returned to her group and the chatter picked up in intensity for a minute. Might not be such a boring night after all.

* * *

 

He really needed to stop getting his hopes up.

They were playing a trivia game, and Alex was losing. Badly. When yet another question asking about some minor character from a Shakespearean play he’d never seen came up, he gave up entirely and left the common room to grab another slice of pizza from the dorm’s kitchen. One of the girls followed him.

“Not really your thing?” she asked, heading for the fridge.

Alex answered around a mouthful of room-temperature pizza. “Nah. If it was only about Hamlet I’d probably do okay, but I never really read much old stuff.”

She giggled as she popped the top off a bottle of booze. “Yeah, I guess classic literature isn’t for everyone. Did you enjoy the play at least?”

“Yeah, Hamlet was the only bit of Shakespeare that I liked from high school. Heh, I actually memorized the To Be or Not To Be soliloquy for extra credit.”

“Oh cool! Do you still remember it?” Her words slurred a bit as the liquor she was sipping began to kick in. She leaned towards him over the kitchen table, her loose tank top giving Alex quite a view. He cleared his throat, and suggested they rejoin the others. “Noooo, come on I want to hear your Hamlet!”

She was properly drunk now. What the hell was in that bottle anyway? Alex shook his head. “Sorry, I get performance anxiety. Let’s get back to trivia night.”

He put a supporting arm across her back and led her to the living room, helping her to her spot on the couch before flopping back down on the floor. Trivia was over, and some drama he didn’t recognize was playing. The girl sobered up surprisingly quickly, and the rest of the night passed in relative quiet.

On the subway ride home, Alex found his mind wandering again.

* * *

_ Far sooner than anyone would’ve liked, the DMS from the door went silent. Jackson called up the next fireteam. “Team 5, take defensive positions around this next corner. DMS.” _

_ They confirmed the order and dropped behind the main force still moving through the Atlantean city. Down gentle ramps and sweeping halls, past open doors leading into what looked like apartments, all illuminated by bizarre pale blue lights hovering near the walls. It was like something out of a sci-fi thriller. Jackson was leading the team, a holographic 3D map on the visor of his helmet showing the way. They were still some way from their target. _

_ Fireteam 5’s DMS went silent. The next fireteam received the same orders. They scattered around a large chamber, spreading mines around the entrance before ducking behind ornate pillars. _

_ No time to admire the architecture, though. The main squad jogged on, already almost half the size from when they jumped. _

_ When the next DMS cut out, Jackson ordered two fireteams to take positions at the end of a narrow hallway. The incoming enemy would be bottlenecked and wide open to the “None” battle rifles the NAMC troops were carrying. It was a defender’s dream. _

_ And yet, 15 minutes later, their DMS went silent as well. Jackson and his remaining five soldiers shared a look, easily read despite the emotionless faceplates of their helmets. _

_ “Gammon,” Jackson ordered, his voice grim. “Take the specialist to the target chamber. We’re less than 200 meters away. The rest of us will take positions and buy you time to do... whatever you do,” he finished, looking at the specialist. _

_ The team confirmed, then found cover in doorways along the hall. As Gammon and the specialist continued alone, the last fireteam rechecked their gear and prepared for battle. _

* * *

Back at the apartment, there were papers waiting for him. From Lynch. Alex scooped them up from the doormat and headed for bed. He didn’t expect the evening to drag on this late, but the girls tipped him generously, so it wasn’t all bad. He stripped as he crossed the apartment and collapsed into bed, asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He was awoken by the doorbell some time later. The afternoon sun cast long shadows off the herbs in Alex’s window box. He grumbled angrily as he grabbed his boxers off the floor and stumbled to the door and jerked it open. “What?”

Agent Lynch, to nobody’s great surprise. He appeared nonplussed by Alex’s appearance. “I guess you haven’t looked over the documents I left for you.”

“Obviously not, I’ve been sleeping. Long day at work, y’know,” Alex grumbled as he led the agent to the kitchen table again. “I’d feel more inclined to help if you spooks weren’t spying on me all the time. The war’s over, this secret surveillance state thing’s getting real old.”

The agent sighed. “We don’t spy on everyone, sergeant. Open the envelope.”

“Stop with the rank and file. And I’m making coffee first. Gonna need all the help I can get to deal with your melodrama.”

When he had his coffee, he joined the agent at the table. The new documents were spread out on top of yesterday’s. “Read this, sergeant.”

“I swear, one more time...” Alex trailed off as he began reading. The first thing that caught his eye was an official summons, signed by the director of the CIA herself. Disregarding such an order could be considered treason. “Cool, guess I don’t have a choice now.”

But that wasn’t all. Most of the papers were analysis reports. Troop movements marked on maps, number and strength estimations. It didn’t take a strategic genius to see what was up. The NSU troops outnumbered the REU border guards by more than 6 to 1. Soviet tanks lined military camps by the hundred. Airfields were packed with all manner of military aircraft. Even considering the defensive emplacements, the sheer magnitude of the Soviet forces would crush the European troops.

“Wow, okay, guess I’m eating my socks for lunch. But I still fail to see why this is my problem.”

Lynch wordlessly pointed to a Soviet naval base. A small box detailed the forces inside. Alex’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “You’re kidding. What use would all that be in a land invasion? Fire support, maybe. But there’s so many transports... oh. No, you’re kidding. They wouldn’t be crazy enough to attack the NAN.”

“Desperation and envy throughout an entire nation can make for powerful motivators. The North American Nations came out of Atlantis better than most. We think they’ll sail across the Atlantic after they secure the REU. It could happen within a year. Our nation is content, comfortable. Nobody wishes to fight another war, even one we’d likely win. Now do you understand? You’re a war hero, Kozak. Put together a team, lead a surgical strike as the Soviets roll west. Break up their lines, just enough to give the REU a fighting chance.”

“It’s suicide.” Alex didn’t sound so flippant anymore, though. This new information was far more convincing than the pictures from yesterday. Still, he wasn’t wrong. “You’re asking me--no,  _ ordering  _ me to sign up for a suicide mission.”

“You haven’t seen the strides our military R&D has made while you’ve been away. We’ll suit up a small team for a guerilla raid off our stealth transport. Play it smart, and you’ll come out clean. And wealthy.”

The Atlantean vet growled. “Fine, I don’t have an option anyway. But what lunatics are going to agree to come along?”

“Some of these, hopefully,” Lynch replied as he pulled out yet more paperwork. It was a stack of dossiers on people Lynch’s office thought would be worth recruiting. Mostly ex-NAMC, but there were some less savory characters in there too.

“Well someone’s been playing the Mass Effect reboot,” Alex muttered as he flipped through them. A few stood out, but only a few. “Fine, I’ll figure this out. Give me a few days to make some calls.”

“We’re leaving now, Kozak. There’s a plane waiting for you. We’ll take my car.”

A quick shower and bit of packing later, they were headed for the airport. Alex brought little more than his gun and a change of clothes. He left his keys with old Ms. Robbins, though he didn’t tell her that he might never return for them.

“First person I’m going to call is corporal Gammon. She was one of mine back at Atlantis and fights like hell itself.”

“We figured. We’ve already tracked her down. Her contact info is waiting for you on the plane.”

“You guys creep me out.”

* * *

_ The waiting was nerve-wracking. They had no clue what was coming, what kind of NSU forces they would be facing. Though from the outside they looked rock solid, inside their combat armor their hearts were pounding. _

_ At last they saw movement. Four hostiles rounded the far corner, and were immediately met with a barrage of None fire from the NAMC fireteam. Blindingly bright white bolts of plasma-coated bullets flew down the hall and slammed into the NSU troops, but they didn’t even flinch. _

_ The bolts from their Nones disappeared in a blink as they hit dimly glowing shields the NSU troops held. Hardlight, one of the wonders of Atlantis. This would be a brutal fight. Jackson called a cease fire; there was no hope of shooting through those shields. “Draw swords!” _

_ The NAMC soldiers drew long straight swords from bulky scabbards hanging from their hips, blades shimmering under the Atlantean streetlights. They held their ground as the four NSU melee soldiers closed in. It was futile. The NSU troops carried hardlight swords to match their  invincible shields, and it was all the NAMC troops could do to backpedal and play defense. But one by one, Jackson’s comrades fell, the NSU hardlight swords easily slicing through their armor and flesh. _

_ Jackson stumbled over his own ankle and fell onto his back. His opponent whooped and jumped forward to end the fight, but in his rush dropped his guard. Jackson’s vibrosword outreached the NSU hardlight sword, and he just managed to spear the NSU troop through the throat before he could finish the job. Jackson grabbed the hardlight shield emitter off the dead soldier’s left arm, and leapt to his feet just in time to see his last squadmate collapse to the floor, headless. _

_ Jackson roared, his battlecry amplified by the speaker in his helmet, and charged, shield in front and vibrosword held high. He split the closest hostile in half lengthwise before he could react to the counterattack. With the playing field evened, the two remaining NSU troops gave ground under Jackson’s relentless assault. He battered their defenses with his heavier weapon, forcing his way past their shields with sheer brute force. He cut them to pieces. _

_ After taking a moment to make sure there weren’t any more NSU forces close behind this vanguard, he dropped to his knees and caught his breath. A short time later, he got up and collected the dog tags off his fallen squadmates. There was no hope of returning their remains to the surface; bringing back their tags would have to suffice. _

_ In a moment of inspiration, he rigged grenades to the NSU bodies. If their comrades came to retrieve their tags or equipment, everything within ten meters would be shredded. Jackson made one more quick check, then jogged down the hall to rejoin the specialist and Gammon in the target chamber. Hopefully, they were ready to leave. This fight might be over, but they still had to escape the city. _

* * *

Once at cruise altitude, Alex steeled himself for the call. The cushy seats of the private jet didn’t help him relax at all. Gammon had been badly hurt at Atlantis, to the point she earned a medical discharge. And Alex felt responsible. He tried to get his thoughts in order, then dialed her number. Each ring multiplied his anxiousness.

_ Click _ .

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kat. It’s Al.”

“Alex! It’s so good to hear your voice again. I haven’t heard from you in ages, what’s going on?”

“... I lost my legs. At Atlantis. And I was too ashamed to come see you.”

“Oh...”

“I messed up. I know I did. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Alex, you don’t have to ap-”

“Yes I do. I asked everything of you. I cost you your arm. And then I messed up. I lost my legs, and it was all for nothing. Katherine, I’m so sorry.”

“... Can we meet? Where are you living these days?”

“I’m on a plane to Denver right now.”

“How did-”

“Do you know a nice place to get dinner? Have a long, private conversation?”

“I... Yeah, uh, La Polpetta. Great Italian place, and I’m regular enough the staff recognize me. We’ll be fine there. What’s going on?”

“I can’t say much over the phone.”

“Try.”

He took a breath. “I’m putting a team together. I’m coming to ask you to... to recruit you.”

“No.”

He’d expected as much. “I know. That’s why I’m coming to see you. We need to talk it out.”

“No, ‘we’ don’t need to do anything. It’s not gonna happen.”

“Kat, please at least listen to what I have to say. I can’t do this without you. Just hear me out? Please... I’ll pay for dinner?”

She huffed. “Fine. Fine, okay. When are you landing?”

Alex repeated the question to the pilot. “An hour, tops. Meet you at... what was-”

“La Polpetta.”

“Right. Meet you there for 8:00?”

“It’s a date.”

“... I-”

“No! Wait! It’s not... I’ll see you then!”

_ Click _ .

Well, that could’ve gone worse.

“And you call  _ me _ melodramatic,” Lynch remarked without looking up from his laptop.

“Shut it.”

* * *

_ When Jackson caught up with them, Gammon and the specialist were just finishing packing away tech samples. They hefted the packs as Jackson spoke up. _

_ “It’s just the three of us left. NSU reinforcements will be coming down after us, we’ll be fighting our way out.” _

_ “Can’t we leave a different way?” the specialist asked, not unreasonably. _

_ “I guess you’re new. No. The scans only get us a target and the shortest route to it. Wider scans aren’t nearly as accurate, even if the aircraft survives long enough to take them. And trying to find our own way out is a guaranteed way of getting lost and starving to death. We’ve already lost multiple S&R squads trying to do just that. We never find them. Either we leave the way we came and  _ maybe  _ die, or try to find another route and  _ definitely  _ die.” _

_ The specialist mumbled something about exposition, but nodded. _

_ “Great. Gammon, I’m taking point. You stay back and provide covering fire. Getting the specialist and her samples to the surface is priority one. Good?” _

_ Gammon nodded slowly. She wasn’t happy with the situation. But then, none of them were. _

_ “Okay, drink some juice, then we-” _

_ An explosion from the hall cut him off. His booby traps. _

_ “Nevermind, we’re leaving now. Move!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REU = Renewed European Union  
> NSU = New Soviet Union  
> NAN = North American Nations  
> NAMC = North American Marine Core  
> None = the N1E5 Carbine, called a "None" (taken from its N1 designation) by the airborne troops this shortened, collapsible rifle is issued to. I'll explain them later in the story instead of cheating in the notes lol.


	3. Katherine Gammon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We switch perspective as we meet Katherine, Kozak's first choice for his suicide squad.

“Okay, I’m taking off!” Katherine called out as she left the restaurant kitchen through the back door. A chorus of goodbyes from her coworkers followed her out. She took a deep breath of the almost-fresh city air, relieved that her waitress shift was finally over, then headed for her car.

It was already getting dark and the dinner rush at La Polpetta was beginning. The parking lot was filling up even as Katherine drove out onto the main road. Relaxing music played on the radio as she drove towards her second job. She was already exhausted from running around, waiting tables, and basically singlehandedly managing the wait staff for the lunch rush, but at least her second job was a lot less intense. Better yet, she never interacted with customers face to face at her second job, and as thus never received weird looks for her cybernetic left arm. Her cybernetic eyes also often received curious looks, but never the wary or disgusted looks her arm drew. Eye replacements were fairly common these days, as it was cheaper and more convenient than corrective surgery. A few of her coworkers had cybernetic eyes as well, one even had set up his irises to slowly shift colors throughout the afternoon shift.

But speaking of work, she wasn’t really sure what exactly she did at her second job; only that she sat at a computer for four hours doing digital paperwork that mostly meant nothing to her and got paid just as well as a full eight-hour shift at La Polpetta. But her coworkers over there were nice and she had received several generous raises in the relatively short time she had been working there, so she couldn’t complain.

Katherine was pulled from her musings as the music paused to be replaced by a phone chime. She glanced down at the screen in the center console and furrowed her brow when she saw it was a protected number. Rare these days... Practically unheard of, actually. Curiosity got the better of her and she accepted the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kat. It’s Al.”

Al. Sergeant Alexander Jackson, from Atlantis. Her old commanding officer. Her older friend. She fought off the gathering memories for long enough to have a brief conversation with him. They agreed to meet, and she hung up, flustered by accidentally calling it a date. She turned around and drove back, giving the night shift manager a call, getting a table in the corner reserved for their meeting. Memories flooded her mind after she hung up.

* * *

 

_“Contacts!” Jackson shouted before charging ahead. Gammon dropped into a firing position while the specialist simply dropped._

_S_ _he watched as Jackson slammed into the NSU squad, using the stolen hardlight shield like a battering ram. Two tumbled to the floor as Jackson chopped another in half before they could bring their weapons to bear. He slammed the bottom edge of the shield onto one of the grounded soldiers’ throats before turning to deflect a barrage of laser fire. “Cover fire!”_

_Gammon fired; a bright white bolt flew past Jackson’s shoulder and took the head off an NSU troop in a puff of red mist. The rest ducked away and Jackson jumped forward to gash two open with one swing. He shoulder-checked the soldier on his left and took a clumsy swipe at the three on his right. One stumbled to the floor, another screamed as her hand was taken off. All were soon silenced between Jackson’s sword and Gammon’s None. Blood and gristle painted the hallway walls and floor red._

_"Move it!” Jackson called. Gammon jogged up to join him, trailed by the specialist who took a second to retch at the aftermath. “We’ve got two miles to run yet. All uphill. Drink some juice, make sure your oxygen supplements are full. I’m going to make the bastards pay.”_

* * *

 

La Polpetta was a small but lovingly decorated restaurant, big enough to seat maybe 40 customers. It was more familiar to Katherine than her own house, her coworkers closer than family. They had reserved the corner table without question when she called in a favor, though she could tell they were a little nervous. She came in through the back door out of habit and returned a few greetings from the evening staff as she passed through. Alexander and another man were already waiting for her when she arrived at the table.

“Alex,” she greeted her fellow veteran cordially as she sat at the table, across from the two men. Normally, they would have hugged like the good friends they were, but not under these circumstances. “And who’s this?”

“Agent Lynch,” he introduced himself, and leaned forward to shake her hand. She didn’t take it.

“So, why am I here?”

A waiter--Jared, if Katherine remembered right--appeared before he could respond, dropping off water and bread and menus and giving Katherine a concerned look. When he left, Alex gave her the short version. He quickly summed up the threat of the NSU and the possibility of them invading the NAN after steamrolling the REU.

“And?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Then this bastard got an official summons so I don’t have a say in this crap anymore. Tell her why she should do this, Lynch.”

“Because your country needs you.”

“I already sacrificed for this country,” Kat responded coldly, pointing at her artificial eyes with her artificial left arm. The metal joints in her fingers clicked as they moved, audibly emphasizing her point.

“I said that too,” Alex grumbled, patting his own artificial body parts.

Lynch sighed.

Jared reappeared to take their orders, his forced cheerful enthusiasm contrasting sharply to the dour mood around the table. He whisked away the menus with assurances that their food would be right out.

Alone again, Lynch laid out an incentive. “Your family is struggling financially due to your mother’s and sister’s conditions, Corporal Gammon. You’re currently working two jobs--one of which is not strictly legal--in order to make ends meet, but only just. I am authorized to offer you financial compensation and government benefits if you sign on. Serg... Kozak here tells me you are an incredible soldier and that he needs you on his team.”

“You’re really committed to this, hey?” Katherine asked Alex. He could only nod. She sighed roughly.

They held that moment of silence as their meals appeared at their table. Lynch dug into his calamari, but Alex and Katherine didn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

“Kat, I know it’s unfair to ask, but I don’t think I can do this without you. I’m not happy about it, but this is important.”

“I know.” Katherine stared into her tortellini for a few minutes. “Agent, my family won’t be able to manage without my paychecks. _If_ I join, how soon can you provide this compensation?”

Lynch swallowed a mouthful of perfectly-cooked squid. “We’ll have a courier on their doorstep, money in hand, by tomorrow afternoon.”

Katherine leaned back and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll join your crusade.”

Alexander’s voice turned thick. “Thank you, Kat.”

“Don’t get any ideas. I’m doing this to save myself working seventy-hour weeks.”

They left before dessert arrived, but left a generous tip.

* * *

 

_Gammon continued to provide covering fire as Jackson charged the NSU reinforcements. They sent squads of 6 to 12 at a time, and none walked away from Jackson’s onslaught. At every point the small NAMC party came across the remains of their fallen squadmates, Jackson paused to collect their dog tags._

_Gammon could see the anger and guilt even through Jackson’s blank faceplate. He moved like a man possessed, not like the energetic if naive soldier she knew from basic._

_Finally, they reached the door to the surface. There were no guards, and it stood wide open. Dozens of NSU soldiers stood around the outside arranged in a half-circle, waiting. Jackson activated the hardlight shield and charged out without a pause for breath. “Doc! Grab their dogtags,” he called to the specialist as he leapt over the remains of Jenkins and Gonzales._

_As soon as he stepped through the door, a river of of laser beams lit up the space between him and the Soviet lines. Jackson didn’t so much as slow down. He rushed straight forward with a roar that shook the deck._

_“Slow down you idiot!” Gammon cried as she took a firing position in the doorway. The NSU troops on the ends of their semicircular formation almost had a firing solution around Jackson’s shield. But Gammon never gave them the chance. Her aim was nothing short of perfect as she burned down the hostiles on his flanks._

_Their attention suddenly split, the NSU troops panicked as Jackson slammed into their position, hacking apart anything that moved. He must have looked like a demon to them. Untouchable, unstoppable, soaked in their comrades’ blood and driven by rage._

* * *

 

“So who’s next?” Lynch asked once they were back in the plane.

Alex chewed on his lip for a moment before answering. “Did you ever hear about that specialist who got caught in that hardlight reactor explosion? Rumor had it she could control hardlight particles.”

“Rumors had it right. We’ve been keeping an eye on her. She’s quite the individual.”

Katherine shivered. “You ever been told you’re creepy?”

“Sometimes.”

"Focus! Where is she?”

“Details on your screens... now.”

Alex and Katherine read over her file. Born to the closest thing the NAN had to an aristocratic socioeconomic circle, genetically modified in utero, Masters in Archaeology, served as an S&R Specialist at Atlantis until she was discharged due to a combat injury, currently the only living member of the Scarborough family. Images from spy systems showed her wielding all shapes of hardlight melee weapons on a well-worn practice field. National champion in multiple martial arts tournaments under a stage name... Quite the individual indeed.

“Cool, glad that hunch worked out. I’m going to give her a call.”

“Dude,” Kat interjected, “it’s almost midnight for her right now. Let’s just fly there and spend the morning in a nice hotel, then contact her.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan. Lynch, you spooks have any nice hotels reserved in New York?”

“No need  for name calling. And of course we do.”

“Great. We’ll be making up for lost dessert once we settle in.”

* * *

 

_Movement in the sky drew Gammon’s eyes away from the bloody spectacle unfolding before her. It was their NAMC dropship, here to pick them up. “Sergeant! The dropship’s here!”_

_He didn’t seem to be listening. He dropped his sword and grabbed an officer, lifting him off the ground by the throat. He struggled in Jackson’s grasp. The rest of the NSU forces broke formation and ran, some even dropping their weapons in panic. Jackson roared in the officer’s face as he went limp._

_Gammon took advantage of the broken Soviet forces to grab the specialist’s arm and drag her towards their fearless leader. “Alex! It’s time to go!”_

_Jackson shook his head, almost like he was waking from a daydream. He dropped the officer and jogged back to her. The three survivors hopped aboard the dropship as it touched down for a mere second before launching back into the clouds._

_Blood pooled around Jackson’s feet, running down off his hardsuit. Gammon stumbled over to his seat and put her hands on his shoulders. “Sergeant, take your helmet off. Look at me.”_

_His eyes were vacant. She shivered at his blank expression. “Mission accomplished, sarge. Let’s go home, get you in a shower.”_

_“They’re all dead.” Jackson’s voice was hoarse._

_Gammon didn’t have the words to comfort him. She could only nod sadly before taking a seat for the flight back to base._

_Later, the scuttlebutt on the NAMC floating base was that Jackson had killed 144 NSU troops on a run of the mill S &R. A gross. That incredible and only slightly-exaggerated figure mixed with the fact that the rest of his squad had been wiped out gave Jackson an ambivalent reputation. Privates looked at him with fear, knowing the he let the troops under him die. Other officers looked at him with awe, marveling that he managed to salvage a lost cause and even come out of it with prototype Soviet tech. _

_He never returned their looks. It was a full week before he returned to duty, still shaken by the loss of his troops but spurred on by duty and orders from on high. When it became known that The Gross Soldier was back in action, he had dozens of volunteers lining up to rebuild his squad. He picked them at random, and never made an effort to learn their names._

_All but Gammon. She stayed with him throughout it all. Even when she was promoted from PFC to Corporal and had the opportunity to transfer to a different unit, she stayed._

* * *

 

It was indeed a nice hotel. The two Atlantis vets didn’t catch the name of it but they frankly didn’t care. Both collapsed into their own beds as soon as they could. Alexander grabbed the phone and began ordering room service while Katherine called her family.

“Katty! Are you alright?”

“Yes, mom. Sorry I left without any warning, it’s important. Keep an eye out for a delivery, you guys should be getting some money soon.”

“Money? Honey, what have you done?”

“Nothing illegal, I promise. I’m safe for now, don’t worry. I’ll call again and try to keep you updated, but I can’t really say what I’m doing, or what I’m going to do.”

“Are you in trouble?” The question was punctuated by a wracking cough.

“No, it’s no trouble. I’m just not allowed to say what it is yet. Don’t call me, I’ll call you when I can.”

There was a pause from the other end of the line. A long pause. “Okay, just be careful. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. If I can make it through Atlantis I can survive anything. Love you, mom. Bye.” She hung up and breathed a deep sigh. She looked over at Alex, who was just returning from the hallway door with a tray full of desserts and booze. A small smile crept onto her face at the sight of it.

“Sounds like she took it well. Cheesecake?” he offered, placing the tray down on the table between their beds.

They spent the evening sampling the plethora of desserts on offer and channel surfing, but soon turned out the lights and settled down for sleep. Though Alex tossed and turned, Kat was asleep almost immediately.

* * *

 

_This S &R run was moving a lot smoother than most. Staff Sergeant Jackson kept his squad tight and moving slowly down into the bowels of the ancient city as one unit. Any movement from behind prompted them to drop into defensive positions and repel the South American Conglomerate forces pushing down behind them. Over an hour into their sortie and the grand total of their casualties amounted to a few bruises and one bullet in a private's forearm. She was soldiering on though; a tube of salve and a big gulp of juice kept her going without holding up the squad. _

_Corporal Gammon was on point with the rest of the demo team, safely clearing away mines and other traps that some SAC advance party had laid for them. It was slow, nervous work but everything was going smoothly. Gammon had her fingers in the guts of yet another next-gen antipersonnel mine while her teammate dealt with a more basic tripwire trap._

_She cut out the fuse just as a warning cry came from the rear guard. Gammon hit the deck as SAC bullets whizzed overhead, but the guy disarming the tripwire kept at it. “What’s the holdup!?”_

_“It’s a tension trigger, I can’t just cut the damn thing!”_

_“Move over!” she commanded as she crouch-ran to him, shoving the private aside. It was a tension trigger all right. A length of thin steel wire was looped around the grenade, holding the trigger lever in place; the safety pin was missing. Any tightening or loosening of the tripwire would set off the grenade in a very short delay--likely no delay at all if the soldier who set the trap knew what they were doing. Trickier than your typical tripwire trap, but still something they teach in week 1 of demo school. Gammon grabbed the grenade, carefully placing her thumb over the string to maintain the same level of pressure on the handle, then pulled a length of tape from her utility belt and wrapped it around the grenade. She cut the wire then yanked the grenade off the bead of glue holding it to the wall and rushed to the rear of the formation where the firefight was heating up._

_“Dud frag out!” she yelled and launched it at the enemy troops pouring through the doorway behind them. A None bolt hit it just as it bounced off the floor, causing it to detonate right at the SAC troops’ shins. Two troops fell legless and screaming, and several others were knocked off their feet. The gunfire from the SAC force dwindled for a moment while the NAMC None fire redoubled. It was a matter of seconds before the rest of the enemy were killed or forced to retreat._

_Jackson’s voice rang out clear and bold over the deafening silence. “Alright everyone drink some juice. You two in the back, keep up the good work. Demo team, continue the advance.”_

_They paused for less than a minute to catch their breath and drink what the troops had come to call “juice.” It was some liquid supplement cooked up in the NAN labs that had a little bit of painkiller, a little bit of stimulant, a little bit of this and a little more of that so that the troops could keep running on all cylinders for the duration of an hours-long, or even a days-long operation without long breaks._

_They pressed on. Gammon and her team continued clearing out traps without any trouble, and the rear guard kept up their ironclad defense. The specialist in the center of the formation--the same one from the infamous Gross Op who had stuck with Jackson since then--hadn’t even had to draw her emergency sidearm. The op was running beautifully, if a bit more slowly than typical._

* * *

 

Kat was woken up later in the morning by Alex talking on the phone, presumably with this specialist. She rolled out of bed and occupied the bathroom as he did, relishing the perfectly-maintained shower and counter that put shame to the mess she was familiar with back home. When she came out wearing just a bathrobe, Alex had laid out a lavish room service breakfast. He gave her the rundown as they dug in.

“So we’re meeting this new recruit at the zoo? They know their stuff. Public, but with other stuff for bystanders to focus on so that we’ll be nothing more than periphery unless we cause a ruckus, and then there’s security to back her up if we start anything.” Kat said around a mouthful of toast, still groggy. Yesterday had been a long day, even for her, and she was still trying to wake up.

“Yeah, it knocked me off balance a bit. She replied so quick and cool, not like how you’d expect a rebellious daughter of ‘American nobility’ to speak. She mentioned a bodyguard as well, but I can’t help but feel she’s the dangerous one.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

They killed time around the hotel, enjoying the amenities while they had the chance. Especially the laundromat.

Kat spent most of her free time in the pool area, enjoying the break away from her jobs. She kicked herself for not calling when she thought of it, but put off doing so for a little longer to just enjoy the solace of the giant hot tub.

Then came the time to roll out. Agent Lynch, nowhere to be found til just now, appeared and led them to a car, which chauffeured them to the zoo; he stayed at the hotel.

They were waved through the front gate, to the dismay of a large family in line, and made their way directly to the bird exhibit. It wasn’t hard to find; the giant mesh enclosure was the tallest thing in the zoo.

Coming close, they were easily able to pick out their contacts. A woman no older than 30 and a man at least a few years younger than her were loitering at a viewing point, but they weren’t looking at the hundreds of colorful birds behind them. Alex made eye contact with the woman and shivered ever so slightly.

He turned to Kat before walking over to them. “Stay behind me.”

* * *

 

_“Stay behind me!” Jackson ordered as SAC reinforcements swarmed the chamber behind them. The NAMC troops had reached a bottleneck in the winding Atlantean corridors, and were now marching almost in single file, still with the demo team up front and the specialist in the middle. Jackson stood with the rear guard; the six of them moved back out of the narrow corridor into the large chamber and laid down covering fire._

_“Dammit not again!” Gammon growled._

_“Make a path I’m going back!” she called, then turned and tried to shoulder her way to the rear, but there just wasn’t room. In her panic, she exercised her power as the second-in-command. “All troops, about-face. Support the Sergeant!”_

_That got them moving. Everyone, even the specialist, charged into the chamber and opened fire on the SAC troops. There wasn’t enough cover for everyone behind pillars, but the sudden wall of None bolts was enough to send their enemy diving for sparse cover. They didn’t find enough._

_Gammon’s surprise attack cut the attacking force in half within moments, and the Marines maintained their high volume fire, never giving the SAC troops the chance to turn the tables._

_“Dammit Gammon, I ordered you behind me! All of you! In the tunnel, now!”_

_With that, Jackson drew his now-legendary sword and shield, then charged the enemy lines singlehanded. They clearly weren’t expecting this, and he chopped his way through two fireteams before even needing to worry about defense. The NAMC fire dwindled, wary of hitting their CO, but also in awe. Most of them had never seen Jackson in action before today, and certainly not in the manner than earned him the Gross Soldier moniker. For most, it was like watching a legend come to life. But for Gammon, it was like reliving a nightmare._

_“You heard the man, get going!” she reinforced his order, then turned and continued providing covering fire. When all their friendlies were through the door, she called to him. “Sarge! Gross! Let’s go!”_

_He was almost done anyway. Two more swings of his sword and three more shots from Gammon, and the SAC force was wiped out. There he stood, up to his ankles in twisted bodies, soaked in blood that wasn’t his. Again._

_“Let’s go!” Gammon repeated, and this time he complied, sheathing his sword and powering down his hardlight shield as he jogged towards her._

_“Alright. Thanks,” he said, his voice thick. He drew his None and motioned towards the door their squadmates had just disappeared through. “Ladies first.”_

_“What a gentle-ARR PEE GEE!”_

_She lunged at Jackson, driving him to the ground. A rocket slammed into the wall just a foot away from where his head had been only a second ago. The shockwave and shrapnel battered them both._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm enjoying how I'm doing the flashbacks, so I hope they're obvious and sensible enough for you guys.  
> As ever, let me know if you have questions that need answering in the text, and I'll find an audience surrogate to help you out. I tend to forget what I have and haven't explained.


End file.
